


Succession

by flying_pupitre



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 06:32:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13969362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flying_pupitre/pseuds/flying_pupitre
Summary: "And yet there was still time. To fix things with Alec, to be the mother she should have been to Izzy, to remind Jace he had always been home. To see who they would become, who they could be. And maybe after all that, even time for herself."Maryse has a little time to reflect by herself in the Institute.





	Succession

**Author's Note:**

> Not much of a romantic fic per say, mostly just thinking about what Maryse thinks about, but established Malec and maybe some nice potential for Maryse. I don't know much about Maryse's established backstory so I made a few details up.

The office hadn’t changed much. The same dark stone fall framed with pieces of deep polished wooden paneling. The light remained dim, just illuminated by the stained glass. The Angel remained ever watchful over the cold halls and moving shadows.

Alec had left the desk more or less the same. He, like her, was precise and immaculate. Papers were always neatly stacked, never a stray memo or paperclip in sight. Everything had its particular place, and she wondered if it was intentional that Alec had left his desk, her desk, exactly as she had kept it.

Save of course the addition of a small portrait of a certain Magnus Bane, and then with a little twist in her heart she’d noticed the photo of their family, circa 2000, picnicking in Central Park, Robert’s arm slung casually around her shoulders. She can see why Alec chose that picture. She knew that day. Max was turning two and it was the last time she’d hoped she could be happy and it would all work out somehow. They were all in their best summer clothes, all smiling, even Jace. Alec had pulled him into the frame, almost too roughly, as if to ensure that Jace knew he was a part of their family. 

She’d felt that twinge of guilt, sharp and unrelenting. She’d abandoned him, but Alec had clearly never given up on her. She’d always been struck by her son’s incredible capacity for love and compassion, even when he was child. She’d always tried to keep her children at arms length, to protect them from the harsh realities of this life, just as her mother had and her mother before that. She’d never said a thing, but somehow he always knew. When things weren’t good with Robert, as they frequently were, he’d wrap his chubby little arms around her and plant a sticky peanut butter kiss on her cheek. It was almost un-Lightwood of him, but if nothing else she and Robert could agree all of their children were better than they could ever be.

A buzz on her phone. It’s a text from Alec. _At Magnus’s_. The message is curt, as to be expected, but he follows it up with a little blue heart shaped emoji. Somehow, even during all of this, it was he who continued to remind her, as if she would somehow forget. _I forgive you, I love you_ , pressed neatly into place with the precision of one of his arrows _._ Her eyes sting a little, but even in the quiet privacy of the office there isn’t any place for tears in these hallowed halls.

Where did all the time go, she ponders, opening the case file on the table. Her beautiful baby boy, a man now. The Head of the New York Institute. Her eldest, in love. Her eyes flicker to the portrait of Magnus Bane. Wry grin, diffident stance, but golden eyes observing the photographer with the softest possible glance. Magnus Bane, son of the demon Asmodeus, High Warlock of Brooklyn, who watched her son with such a raw, almost pained look of love. The sort that is torn out of the unsuspecting, the sort that was almost too powerful to bear. She’d never known a love like that, but it was obvious for anyone to see Alec had met his equal in Magnus Bane. They hardly ever touched each in front of others, their interactions almost so subtle that an unknowing eye could miss it. It was probably more for the benefit of others, she had to acknowledge that with another stab of guilt, but the signs were still there. She saw the way they leaned slightly into each other’s spaces discussing a file, the way their eyes followed each other around a room, carefully noting their positions, as if they were terrified someone would suddenly disappear. _He won’t, Alec- don’t be afraid_. It had taken time for her to accept Magnus Bane, but she knew instantly, maybe even before Alec as a mother sometimes did, that the Warlock was going to be her son’s Great Love. There would never be anyone else.

It was difficult for her to completely understand that sort of thing. Maryse was the eldest of three sisters, and she’d understood her role in the family from an early age. Her father died when she was young and her mother had scrapped and scrambled to put together a decent life for her children, which never quite materialized. Age had pursed her lips into a thin stern line, and she’d realized that the only way she would ever leave her life behind was through her children. The Trueblood women were intelligent, strong, and beautiful and would make an excellent addition to any family of high esteem if they were only given the chance. She was the eldest and honoring her mother meant everything to her, and so she’d agreed to a date with Robert Lightwood, of the great and noble Lightwoods, a capable if not excellent fighter, who held her chair out on their first date and offered her his coat perfunctorily. She’d probably felt at some point that it wasn’t as it should have been. No flickers in her chest, or shivers up her spine, but on a deeper lever she could recognize him as one and the same, or at least wanted the same things. Shadowhunters who were good if not great, and with formidable reputations to uphold. But she couldn’t resent him forever. He had been there for Alec when she couldn’t, and for that she would forever be in debt to him.

A knock.

“Come in.” 

The girl from the front office.

“Lucian Graymark is here to see you Ma’am.”

8:00 pm on the dot. She liked a man who understood the importance of punctuality. But that didn't mean she couldn't make him wait a little.

“Tell him I’ll be there shortly."

The girl spun out, closing the door behind her, and Maryse fixed her earrings and gave her reflection in the mirror a final sharp look over.

Her body was still strong and firm, she was a soldier first, and she knew her face was still youthful, lovely. But she could see the little crows feet, the greys at her temple and she realized she didn’t mind the way things ebbed and flowed on.

That was the thing about time. Her eldest children were grown now, stretched out just beyond her. They wanted her, yes, but no longer needed her. At least not in the same way. They had developed into capable, strong, brave and healthy men and women. They were surrounded by people who would love and protect them. What more could a parent hope for? And yet there was still time. To fix things with Alec, to be the mother she should have been to Izzy, to remind Jace he had always been home. To see who they would become, who they could be. And maybe after all that, even time for herself.

A dab of her favorite perfume on her wrists, behind her ears and she’s off, wondering idly if Lucian Graymark preferred floral or woody notes, letting Alec’s office door close behind her with a heavy finality.

 

End


End file.
